“Could vividly hear Dad from many decades ago as he would finish making his memorable meatloaf, concluding with sighs and rolling eyes from family members as he proclaimed: ‘Best way ever to get your hands clean!’ ”

And now Sugar Babe: “I suggest a new Bulletin Board category of Handcrafted Meatloaf recipes — featuring mandatory ingredients and, if needed, optional ingredients. NO measurements or amounts; just ingredients. And entrants have to swear that they mush all the ingredients together with their bare hands, like Menomonie Grandpa.

Gregory of the North: “I’ve been wondering for some time whether to send this in. With the recent discussion of how the term came to be used in our Bulletin Board community, I finally decided to do so. Every time I see something that has the Baader-Meinhof label, I always recall this event. Maybe telling the tale will expunge the ‘mind worm’ I get.

“As you know, I was a soldier for many years, and during my second posting to Germany, in 1976-1979, I came into contact with some of the aftermath of the real Baader-Meinhof gang.

“I was driving back to Wiesbaden from a class I had at Spangdahlem Air Base. It was around midnight, and I was on a two-lane rural road. I approached a strangely lit area. As I got closer, I found that the brightly lit area was a roadblock.

“I was motioned over to the side of the road. I saw two armored personnel carriers (APC) with mounted and manned machine guns, along with a mobile command post. When I got to the side of the road, I was politely asked to get out of the car and leave my keys. This polite action took place with two soldiers pointing automatic weapons at me, one on my right and one on my left.

“Once I was out of the car, an officer came over to me and, and in a manner too reminiscent of old movies, asked for my papers. Despite the fact that I was driving a car with USA plates, and I looked like a typical American, he spoke to me in German. I replied in German which, I had been told many times before, was heavily accented.

“Now, I must explain that at least at that time, American soldiers were not required to have passports. So I handed over my military ID and watched him frown as he compared the photo on it to me. He then barked some orders to other soldiers (not the ones pointing guns at me), and they sprang into action taking things out of my car, including the seats and all of the miscellaneous detritus (such as empty Coke cans) that a long day on the road tends to accumulate. The officer disappeared into his command post.

“After some time, the officer came back outside. By this time, most of the interior of the car and all of the contents of the rear storage area were lying on the ground. One of the enlisted men involved in the search reported to the officer, and then the officer came over to me. He ordered the two men guarding me to shoulder their weapons and approached me with a smile. ‘All is in order,’ he said in English. ‘My men will put your auto back together.’

“I stood there and watched as they, indeed, put everything back in the car. Even the Coke cans were carefully placed back on the floor whence they came, as well as the food wrappers on the passenger seat.

“When they were finished, the officer walked me to my car and asked me if everything was satisfactory. He told me that I had been stopped because the Baader-Meinhof gang had been operating in the area, and a car similar to mine had been stolen. He spoke into a handheld radio, and then, after saying a few more words, told me I could leave. As I drove out of the lit area into the darkness, the crews of two more APCs raised skyward the muzzles of their mounted machine guns and waved cordially.

“I then reflected on the final parting words of the officer. He told me that my habits were insulting to the German car (a Volkswagen Golf) that I was driving, and he found it shocking that someone with a German surname could do that. He told me: ‘You shame your car and your name. It is very messy inside and is dirty and needs to be cleaned and washed. You will go back to your Kasern and clean it immediately.’ What could I say but ‘Yes, sir’?

“Thank you for the chance to clear that memory from the cobwebs of my mind. Now, perhaps, I can enjoy future reports of B-M Phenomena for their own sake.”

New tricks (resp’l II)

Tuesday’s Bulletin Board included a note from M Birder of the East Side: “Just like Papawilde (Jan. 18, 2013), I have been enjoying the new ‘7 Little Words’ puzzle for a number of reasons. First and foremost: I can actually DO IT!

“Over the years, I’ve watched in awe as my clever husband has done Sudoku, Word Jumble and Cryptoquip (from the ‘other paper’). MY brain simply doesn’t ‘connect’ well with any of these!

“But NOW I have something for ME! 7 Little Words connects! As Papawilde said, it is fun to learn new words (e.g., toque) … although sometimes I question whether they are ‘real’ words (e.g., spork)!”

We presently heard from Mrs. Patches of St. Paul: “Of course there is a spork! I use one each time I eat my bears and rice at Taco Bell!”

BULLETIN BOARD SAYS: Really? We thought that was a foon!

Where’s the time go?

Al B of Hartland: “I had lunch with Gary at the Village Inn. After we finished eating, Gary said: ‘It’s already Tuesday. I’d just as well take the rest of the week off.’

“My mother said something similar: ‘Here it is, Monday already. Tomorrow will be Tuesday. The day after is Wednesday. Then it’s Thursday, followed by Friday. The week is almost over, and I haven’t done a thing.’ ”

Not exactly what he had in mind

Newport Reader: “On Saturday, as the temperatures were plummeting, we went to our cabin in Wisconsin. When we arrived, we discovered there was no heat. While eating in our coats, we communicated with a few furnace technicians. We concluded that it was a problem with the natural-gas meter.

“The repairman arrived, changed the meter (no charge!), and handed me the repair report. For the problem, he wrote: ‘Meter not passing gas.’

“Amazingly, I was able to keep a straight face until he left!”

The darnedest things

WARNING! Cute kid story ahead, from Gma Julie of Amery, Wis.: “My son and his family flew to Cancun for a week of vacation last Saturday. As the plane was becoming airborne, 5-year-old Marko said: ‘Dad, my stomach is having a heart attack!’ ”

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